


Worn Wristwatches

by tofubbq



Series: Sketchbooks and Wristwatches [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Issues, Paranoia, Self-Esteem Issues, coping with stuff and all that jazz, lots of headcanon stuff. way too much headcanon stuff actually, some other stuff here as well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-05-21 00:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19362541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofubbq/pseuds/tofubbq
Summary: Someone stumbled across Scout's room, he's fairly certain of it.Or is he overthinking it?





	1. Chapter 1

Still wet from his shower after battle, Scout headed to his room. His bare feet slapped loudly against the tile floor as he walked down the hallway of the base, making no attempt to be quiet in his movements. He was still tugging his shirt on properly as he pushed open the door to his bedroom. 

Odd.

He could’ve sworn he had closed the door behind him that morning. Shrugging it off as an oversight, he bent over to pick up a sketchbook up off the floor, amongst his other ones. His room was a lot messier than he’d like it to be… and enough to earn him an earful from Spy, if he caught sight of it. He was surprised he hadn’t been chewed out by him yet for it, considering the amount of time the other spent lurking around the base. Maybe he was taking the day off of nagging.

Scout walked over to his desk and sat down at it. He opened up the sketchbook to the last page he was working on. He frowned at the scribbled out drawings on the page, noticing that there was even a hole or two in the paper from him erasing the same spot too many times. The sketchbook wasn’t that expensive to buy considering how much money he had from his job, but his heart still sank whenever he ruined a page out of frustration while drawing. 

He turned to the next page so he wouldn’t have to keep looking at it.

He stared intently at the blank page before him. He picked up his pencil and chewed on the end of it, the taste of wood filling his mouth. He was trying to conjure the image of a face in his head, but he found it was difficult for him to concentrate on it. All he could think of was the feeling of eyes boring into the back of his skull, looking at him. Observing him. Trying to figure out what he was doing. If he listened closely, he could almost hear breathing.

“Scout, it’s your imagination… Ignore it.” Even though he told himself this, he couldn’t shake the sensation of it. He continued to stare down at the paper, watching as water droplets fell from his still wet hair and onto the paper, creating splotches that wrinkled the page. God, who was watching him? And he just opened the door, so why did it suddenly close again?

Concentrate.

He was working himself up over nothing again. Lately, it’d been happening a lot - the smallest little things bugged him. Even the most insignificant detail would jump out at him, demanding his attention, whether that was the tone of someone’s voice, or the twitch of their face muscles. Sometimes it would be something someone said to him, or a certain way they moved. How they favoured one foot over the other while walking. How they swallowed every time they finished a sentence. He couldn’t get it out of his head, but he found that drawing the things he noticed helped with processing it, but he still had to spend some time away from the rest of his team to recollect himself. 

Scout half-heartedly drew a line across the page; the scratching noise the pencil made as it made contact with the paper was comforting to listen to. It cut into his thoughts, distracting away from them as he continued drawing lines on the page. It wasn’t any image in particular, just scores of lines in random directions. They weren’t even orderly, or straight. They were as wriggy, misshapen and varying in length as they could be. He completely lost track of time, his mind going as blank as the paper originally was, automatically moving his hand back and forth and back again. Over, and over, and over. 

By the time he was finished, the page was covered in so many lines the spaces in between them were quite small and hard to make out unless one looked carefully. He leaned back in his chair to get a better look at the line-covered page.

He wasn’t trying to make art with those lines.

He was just trying to hold onto himself.


	2. Chapter 2

His heart was racing. 

It was pounding so hard, he was certain it would leap into his throat and lodge itself in there, clogging his windpipe. 

Come on, Scout. 

All that practicing in front of a mirror had to pay off. He’d done it a million times, to the point he was probably saying it in his sleep. There was no way he could screw it up, something as tiny and stupid as a joke, right? 

Still, he could feel someone staring at him, their gaze boring into his face. And it wasn’t Heavy or Sniper sitting across the table from him, for their faces were relaxed. Smiling a little, even. No, it wasn’t just his imagination either. He noticed down the table that Engineer had taken notice, looking beside Scout. 

Spy.

The man had always kept his feelings to himself, with the exception of the times he scolded or lectured him for doing something wrong. His actions and his tendency to keep to himself marked him as a cold, closed off person, but Scout got a different feeling from him. His face was always obscured by his mask, but his eyes… there was a certain look to them that stirred an emotion that he couldn’t quite describe. It was there now, a longing gaze as he stared at Scout.

“Spy? Do I have something on my face?” He asked, nudging his side with his elbow. It seemed to yank Spy out of his daze, as he blinked several times and looked about himself.

“It’s nothing.” The man looked back down at his plate. Considering what their meal was today, he couldn’t blame him for looking so sorrowful towards it. It was something burnt beyond recognition, and beyond edibility, too, a rather revolting Pyro and Soldier dinner collaboration. Hell, even Medic looked suspicious of it!

“So, anyway,” Scout decided to continue on with the joke he was telling. Another look at the meal in front of him had replaced any feeling of anxiety with downright disgust. Somehow. He leaned across the table, grinning broadly to really sell the joke. “The girl I was talkin’ to… I asked her, ‘got any upsexy?’” It was one of the oldest jokes in the book, but also one of the easiest.

“What’s upsexy?” Heavy inquired, raising a brow as he folded his arms over his chest. Scout could tell from the look on Sniper’s face that he already knew the joke, and was trying his best not to let out a laugh at the table.

“Nothin’ much, what’s up with you?” The two of them broke out into laughter, and he could’ve sworn he heard a snort from Spy beside him. A win his books, considering how he was expecting to get a hard smack for his terrible humour. When he turned to look at him, his expression was as stony as ever. Heavy and Sniper stopped laughing abruptly when they noticed that Spy was looking straight at them, his familiar look of disappointment on his face.

The conversation at the table seemed to slow to a lull as everyone poked at the charred remains on their plate. The only person who was actually eating it was Soldier. And presumably Pyro, judging by their empty plate. Spy was the first one to excuse himself from the table, heading out of the room briskly. He was going out for a smoke - Scout knew because he did it every night. For someone so keen on keeping his life a secret, he had a pretty predictable schedule.

This time, Scout decided to follow after him. Once Spy was out of the room, he cleaned up his dishes in the kitchen before setting off after him. 

While he was known for being one of the loudest mercenaries on their team, Scout could be surprisingly stealthy when he wanted to be. He kept his footsteps light, favouring the balls of his feet and avoiding the creakiest parts of the flooring. He knew where most of the spots were, since he ran back and forth on them in the middle of the night in front of Spy’s room just to get on his nerves from time to time. Sometimes, it was fascinating to see just how far his team mates could tolerate something annoying… It was something of a minor hobby to Scout.

He followed Spy, wondering when - or if - the other would notice him. When Spy stepped outside, Scout stayed by the doorway, pressing himself up against the wall beside it so he wouldn’t be seen if Spy looked in his direction. He craned his neck just enough so he could see the edge of Spy’s face, illuminated in the dark by his cigarette. What struck Scout was the way he stared off into the night sky, stress wrinkling the few features that weren’t covered by his mask. The way he swayed on the spot, idly, was so… unlike him. He wasn’t sure why, but there was definitely something wrong with him. 

Spy was crying. 

He made no movement or indication he had noticed the tear that ran down his face and dripped from his chin. A few more followed suit, but he didn’t sob or wipe them away. Instead, a strange noise came from the man’s throat as his eyelids twitched. 

Scout stood by the door until Spy had put out his cigarette. 

Then he turned and ran back into the base.

**Author's Note:**

> From Scout's point of view, of events of Storebought Sketchbooks.


End file.
